


Ribbons and Staples

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, BDSM, Bloodplay, Cock & Ball Torture, Community: spn-masquerade, Dom Cain, Dom/sub, M/M, Masochism, Painplay, Piercings, Skin stapling, Sub Castiel, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a way to do these things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbons and Staples

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodandcream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/gifts).



> Written for round 3 of spn-masquerade for the prompt: Anything, and I mean literally any possible scenario you could conceive, for sub pain slut Castiel getting his balls and dick stapled together. *nods furiously*
> 
> Please read the warnings for extreme CBT and BDSM.

Rice.  Binder clips.  Fishing lures. Grosgrain ribbon.

 

Cain glances down at his shopping basket and smiles.

 

“Did you find everything you were looking for?”

 

The cashier couldn’t sound less interested in his response but Cain smiles anyway as he hands over his credit card.

 

“I sure did.”

 

He whistles as he walks home.

 

~

 

There’s a way to do these things.

 

Castiel isn’t here to serve him. Castiel’s here because he needs the hurt.  They both know this.

 

But Cain’s old-guard and serve him Castiel will, just like he’ll wear a collar and call him Sir all night.  These kids don’t know anything about tradition.

 

Cain’s loft gets great light in the afternoon. Sunlight streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, throwing a grid pattern onto the poured concrete floor and the wide circle of raw rice where a carpet usually lays.

 

Castiel kneels, naked, weight bearing down on a hundred little sore spots.  He’s been there for an hour and he’ll stay there until Cain tells him to get up.

 

Castiel’s not getting up for a while.

 

The blood on his chest looks brighter where the sun catches it.  Eight freshly-pierced rings march down his chest, four on each side.  They’re spaced perfectly, if Cain does say so himself.

 

Cain’s boots crunch over rice as he steps into Castiel’s space, casually unspooling a yard of red ribbon. He snicks it off with his knife, making sure Castiel’s watching.

 

Cain crouches down to thread the ribbon through each ring, lacing them together and pulling hard enough to make Castiel whimper. Fresh blood oozes and mingles with the old, so many shades of red.

 

“Got some pretty ribbon for my pussy boy’s pretty tits.”

 

Castiel came for the hurt but he comes back because he needs that deeper itch scratched.  Anyone can hurt him but it takes a special hand to humble these baby boy pain sluts.

 

Castiel’s playing pussy tonight.

 

“Atta girl,” Cain hums, tugging the ribbons a little tighter and lacing them off. 

 

Castiel’s eyes swim in and out of focus, hovering on the edge of his head space.  He’d done a fairly good job putting on the makeup Cain had told him to wear, and the idea of Castiel blushing on the G train as he made his way to Cain’s house with a Tammy Faye Baker’s worth of mascara on made Cain’s dick stir.

 

Cain smears his thumb through a fresh trail of Castiel’s blood.  This is the kind of shit these pups always bitch about, safety and pathogens and latex covering every surface.  He’d seen Castiel’s lab results and Castiel had seen his, which was enough for both of them.

 

Cain’s not wearing goddamn gloves to wipe Castiel’s own blood over his lips.  That’s skin to skin or it’s not happening.

 

“That’s better.”

 

Cain clears a swathe of floor with the side of his hand, scattering rice out of his way.  He kneels, making himself comfortable.

 

“How’re these pretty girl-parts doing, hmm?”

 

He flicks his index finger over one of the binder clips hanging from Castiel’s balls.  They’ve been on for a good twenty minutes, long enough to blanch out some of the pain. Castiel draws in a sharp breath but he doesn’t make a sound, the tough little bitch.

 

“I asked you a question, boy.”

 

He grabs the curved handle of one of the clips and twists, earning him a strangled scream.  That’s more like it.

 

“My,” Castiel swallows, voice shaky.

 

“My pussy deserves this, Sir.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

Cain releases his hold and watches Castiel regain his composure.  The kid bounces back quick.

 

Cain’s coffee table is within arm’s reach. He drums his fingers against it, not missing the dart of Castiel’s eyes.  There’re things on that table Cain wouldn’t use in a million years, not even on a little pain slut like Castiel.  Half the fun is leaving him wondering what Cain will pick up next.

 

“Yeah, I wanna see those little pussy lips stretched out for me.”

 

The fishing weights roll together in his hand, lead sinkers with little clips on the ends.  Castiel knows what those mean but he stares resolutely forward.

 

He still screams when Cain snicks them onto the binder clips.

 

Cain stands to admire his work. Castiel’s arms are strung behind his back, some simple rope holding them together and lashing them to Castiel’s ankles. It’s not the pretty shibari crap all these kids love, just a good way to keep him where he needs to be.

 

Castiel’s shaking, blood-smeared lips trembling and those blue eyes blown out subby wide.  Where most boys grit their teeth and grunt Castiel’s lips hang open, sighing high and pretty.

 

He’s ready.

 

Castiel doesn’t watch him as he leans down to get his next item from the table.  It’s not shiny and pretty like the fat sounds and fatter plugs laid out in neat rows. Castiel still blanches when Cain holds the plain white plastic in front of him.

 

“We’re gonna make that pussy nice and pretty for me, boy.”

 

The first staple pierces through Castiel’s foreskin, connecting it to his ball sac.  It only takes a second but Castiel’s scream lasts until he’s hoarse. By the time Cain gets the fourth staple in, Castiel’s got a face full of ruined eyeliner and Cain’s hard.

 

“Spread your legs.”

 

Castiel knows how to obey even when he’s sobbing. He opens his legs as much as he can, hissing and sputtering as the rice embedded in his knees drags across the floor. It’s barely enough space but Cain manages to pull Castiel’s balls back through his legs, weights swinging and a fresh set of screams echoing off Cain’s walls.

 

Reaching between Castiel’s legs he finds the smooth skin of Castiel’s taint, just below the furl of his hole.

 

The sound Cain rips out of him when he staples Castiel’s balls to that tender strip of flesh is a thing of beauty. Castiel collapses into him, trusting Cain to keep him from hitting the floor and sobbing into his shirt as Cain holds him up. His eyes can barely focus when Cain holds his jaw up, nodding his approval.

 

Any boy can learn to take pain. Surrendering to it is a gift from God and Castiel is blessed.

 

He frees Castiel’s hands and guides him to all fours, stroking over the neat tuck of his cock and balls between his legs. Unprompted, Castiel heaves in a breath.

 

“Thank you, Sir.”

 

Cain smiles.  Castiel’s voice is broken but he arches back when Cain circles a finger around his hole. 

 

“Good boy.”

 

Cain doesn’t give his compliments lightly. Cain’s also never played with a boy who could take this much and do it with grace. 

 

His boy can have a little reward.

 

Cain sucks two fingers into his mouth, pressing them wet against Castiel’s hole.

 

“Let’s see if we can make my pretty pussy boy squirt for me.”

 

 


End file.
